


Kindle

by SynodicSoma



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, M/M, Slow Build, Slow Burn, everyone gets some cool kick ass magic powers cause I say so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-02-10 20:11:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18667537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SynodicSoma/pseuds/SynodicSoma
Summary: There once was a boy who ran wild and free, a boy who went and drove himself insane from unruly, fiery killing sprees. He burned a path across land and sea. A blaze of roaring flames, mayhem, and cackles laying in his wake. Until one day an offer appeared, an offer he could not refuse. Accepting, he now roams as he pleases with a giant lumbering after him, always following close behind. A giant bound by a word of promise of fifty-fifty of all spoils and by something they both don't quite understand, not yet at least.





	1. Flint and Steel

**Author's Note:**

> "Kindle" will be simply telling the tale of our two most beloved junker's growing relationship from beginning to the very end in a couple of short snippets of their lives. :}
> 
> Where this story takes place is in an alternate universe where the world is full of magic. Magical creatures and beings exist, basically a modern day fantasy AU in a sort of way. Demons, angels, and other monstrous beings roam among humans, hidden in plain sight with the aid of The Mist. 
> 
> Some humans granted with the ability of magical abilities, some gain them through being inherited, and some (like our favorite junkers) gained them from the aftermath of the omnium's fusion core explosion, which was powered by magical energy, granted the lucky survivors with magical powers with some side effects! There are some magic abilities that are present, so please do keep both of these in mind as the story continues. 
> 
> I don't have much experience in writing fanfics so please be gentle and patient with me, lol. I will also be adding tags as I go as needed. Now! Onto the story.

“Now… How much did we agree to? Wot was it…” Junkrat, a spindly and twitchy young man, ponders out loud as he and his newly hired bodyguard leisurely wander side by side farther from the smoking underground bar. Junkrat outstretches his mechanical arm and splays his prosthetic hand, palm up, and begins to count on his orange spray painted metal digits, mumbling numbers as he did so. “Ten? Fifteen percent?”

Junkrat waits for some sort of response from his newly appointed bodyguard as he quizzically glares at his own prosthetic hand noticing both small and new details that hadn’t been there the day prior. The paint on his palm and around the finger joints beginning to chip away revealing the rusting metal underneath, a few of his knuckle screws coming loose, and his pinky finger being slow to respond. He softly scoffs at the sight, starting to pick at the edges and watching as the brightly colored flakes of paint flutter to his feet and disappears into the sand. Guess that’s what he got for getting far too excited, doing such a shoddy paint job, and not properly sealing it. Oh well, just meant more time improving the darn limb.

A harsh, disagreeing grunt pulls Junkrat out of his staring contest with his own metal appendage. His bright, nearly glowing orange eyes glance up and to the side to lock eyes with the expressionless mask of his newest employee, the one man apocalypse himself, Roadhog. Roadhog was massive in both height and girth; it’s probably what had Junkrat desperately reaching out for him. All that power packed in one mighty human… or it could’ve been the knife being held at his throat that made him plead and bargain for any aid he could get. Which was it? Junkrat wasn’t too sure, but what he _did_ know for sure was this was the first time in years he had to crane his neck to look up at someone, and boy did he _look_.  
  
Junkrat flashes Roadhog his cheesy trademark face-splitting grin, waiting. No answer came however, but even though the thick dark lenses Junkrat could practically feel the hard squint of hidden eyes glowering down at him.

“NO! NO NOO, WAIT! Tha' can't be roite, ahah...” Junkrat says, quickly backpedaling his previous offer. “Was it twenty percent?”

“...” An eerie silence follows his question. The only sign Roadhog was even paying attention was the slight head tilt and drawn out raspy breathing from the damned filters of the pig-shaped mask. What was up with the thing anyway?

Junkrat gulps down the knot forming in his throat and forces himself to smile even wider. He scratches the side of his nose, not once breaking eye contact with Roadhog’s tinted lenses that he called ‘ _eyes_ ’ as they made a right down the street. From behind them a chorus of distant enraged wailing cries could be heard. Sounded like the blokes in the bar finally woke up.

Junkrat looks off to the side when Roadhog made no sign of answering his questions, even though he could make a pretty good guess on what the big brute’s answers would be. As they walk in mutual silence, a difficult thing for Junkrat, the scrawny man catches a famously familiar pointy face on a poster pasted haphazardly and without a care on a passing rusting metal building. Junkrat reaches out and snags his face off the wall. He scoffs at the inaccurate, crude drawing of his own face and measly few thousand some bounty scribbled below. They made his nose too big and bloody forgot his adorable freckle on the right side of his nose, the _nerve_.

Junkrat crumbles the paper into a ball in his good fist, muttering blighting curses to the Queen and whoever made the damned poster. Without so much as a warning, flames burst out of thin air and engulf Junkrat’s tight, shaking fist. Junkrat giggles in pure delight at the sight of the flickering and warm orange flames at his fingertips.

His delight doesn’t last long, because a surprisingly fast and large hand grabs Junkrat by his good forearm. The burning flames instantly die as Junkrat is jerked upwards in one fluid motion, he stares in gobsmacked horror in those same emotionless dark lenses. Roadhog gives Junkrat’s forearm a not so gentle squeeze.

“You. Know. The. _Rules_.” Roadhog growls out lowly, punctuating each of his words nice and slow, making sure each word had haunting power behind it. Junkrat squirms in Roadhog’s grasp, using his mechanical hand to make a sad attempt to pry himself out of Roadhog’s hold and kicking his foot freely in the air.

Now dangling a foot or so off the ground, he winces and nervously titters. Of all things he expected Roadhog to sound like, he was not expecting that deep and luscious voice when he had scolded him. Junkrat smiles, albeit a bit wobbly and crooked, but he manages to pull off his smug cat-like grin. “AH! HA! I DO! I dooo! Jus’, _ya kno’_ , gotta get ridda evidence mate! Can’t go ‘round with me strikin’ handsome mug on every alley wall!”

Junkrat proves his point by opening his fist and letting the flaky, black, papery ash slip through his long, thin fingers. Roadhog turns his head slightly to watch before turning to focus his blank glassy gaze back to the twitchy idiot being held up by his own hand. He gives Junkrat a quick shake causing the remaining ash to flutter to the sand at their feet.

“Everyone knows who your arse is already.” Roadhog points out flatly as he kicks at the sand, managing to bury the ash out of sight beneath it.

“Oh yeh? Like who?” Junkrat asks, glaring up at him like a child caught sticking their hand in the cookie jar.

“Queen. Junkertown. _Me_.”

“Ah, tru’. Kinda hard not’a be kno’n when ya arse finds somethin’ like the omnium's treasur- Wait, WAIT A’TICK! YA KNEW WHO ME ARSE WAS?!”

Roadhog seems to wince as Junkrat’s scratchy voice advanced to an ear-ringing screech and holds Junkrat further away from him. He gives Junkrat another small shake. “Shut up. You make so damn much noise.”

Junkrat stills at the gentle shake, then laughs as he swings to and fro. “Too roite!” Junkrat cheerfully chirps, “Bigger the noise the betta, as I say!”

“Uh huh…”

“Soooo… Uhm, can ya lemme down now?”

Roadhog sighs and finally relents by loosening his tight grasp, allowing Junkrat’s skinny arm to slip out of those thick meaty fingers and land back on his two feet, well _foot_. The remaining foot he hadn't managed to blow off quite yet. “Don’t do it again,” Roadhog grumbles as a warning.

Junkrat hisses through his teeth as he cradles his forearm to his chest, massaging the angry red marks starting to form on his spot and grease covered skin with his stiff metallic fingers. That will definitely be bruising nice and pretty tomorrow, ouch. “Swears it on me remainin’ limbs, mate! Well, ‘long as we in these here walls, I swears it.” Junkrat says, motioning to the distant front gates.

“Mm.”

“Ya arse got one hella’ve a grip mate, don't cha?” Roadhog grunts in agreement or… what Junkrat took as agreement once he’s back and walking along Roadhog’s side. It was quite hard to tell what the big fuck was grunting about, but he’s sure he’ll pick up their meanings in no time!

“So… gettin’ back on track. Uhh, how’s twenty-five sound mate?”

Roadhog growls again with irritation clear in his muffled voice, “Fifty.”

Junkrat stops walking and stares at Roadhog’s exposed back as he continued to trudge forward, “Wot?”

“Fifty percent.”

“WOAH! WOAH, WOAH, WOAH, WOT!? NO! NO FUCKIN’ WAY!!” Junkrat nearly screams as he takes off past Roadhog and stopping the giant dead in his tracks by stand in front of him with both his arms out. “GIMME ONE,” Junkrat holds up and presses two fingers in Roadhog’s leathered pig snout, but quickly realizes his mistake and puts one down. “ONE FUKIN’ GOOD REASON WHY YA ARSE DESERVES FIFTY FUKIN PERCENT!”

“…” Roadhog snorts bemusedly and jabs a fat thumb behind him. Junkrat backs his hand out of Roadhog’s face and leans off to the side to stare into the general direction Roadhog had pointed to. The first thing he sees is a thin stream of smoke a couple of blocks away coming from some place deeper in the town. Where they had come from, The Trashed Racoon bar. Junkrat whistles before bursting into a fit of bubbly giggles and scratches at the back of his sunbaked neck.

“… Oh roiiite, ya arse did jus’ gone an’ saved me back there, huh?” Junkrat mumbles to himself. He watches the smoke trail waver and sway before refocusing back on Roadhog who had been apparently been watching him in return.

“Mhm.”

“Fuck… HMM, Wot ‘bout forty?” Junkrat offers as he lowers his hand completely and takes a step back, offering a meek hopeful smile.

Roadhog leans forward, closing the gap Junkrat had made and simply loomed over Junkrat, not uttering a single response.

Silence has always been Junkrat’s greatest enemy and weakness, so he easily breaks it and throws up his hands in defeat. “FOINE! Ya arse drives a fuckin’ hard bargain mate. How’s this! Ya protect me arse from those cunts tha’ are after me arse an’ me… I mean our, _our_ treasure. Than ya fat arse gets half. Sound good?”

“Fifty percent of all spoils and the treasure,” Roadhog grunts. He leans back, shoves Junkrat to the side, and resumes trudging forward as if the conversion was done there.

“SURE! Sure, Woteva! It’s a deal then! Let’s shake on it mate!”

It’s Roadhog’s turn to stop dead in his tracks.

“Awwe!! Cooome ooon, mate! Even steven! Fifty-fifty! Gotta seal a deal with a good ol’ handshake, mate! Make it all official an’ wot not. Tha’s how this shite works, roite?”

Roadhog heaves a ragged sigh and turns around to face his new employer. His head tilts down to stare at Junkrat’s fleshy hand held out to him. Roadhog doesn’t move to take the offered hand.

Junkrat’s smile wavers, “...Don’t tell me ya arse is a bloody germaphobe or some shite. Come on mate, give it shake.”

Roadhog makes a strange sound, it’s airy and kind of wheezy, but before Junkrat had time to process Roadhog could’ve been _laughing_ the big brute reached out and engulfs Junkrat’s entire hand in his own and gives it a single firm shake. “Al’ight. Fifty-fifty.”

“EYY! Tha’s the spirit ya big lug! Knew me arse could count on ya porky arse! Now! Let’s get outta here before those bleedin’ drongos catch up with us, ‘ey?”

“Wha’ever you say, Boss.”

“Tha’s wot I like to hear! An’ _Boss_ , ‘ey? HEH, sure do like the sound of tha’! Say it again!”

“Don’t push it.”

“HA, roite roite. AH HA! ONWARD WE GOES THEN!”  



	2. Spark Catcher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This could be good for me.  
> Lately I was feeling like I, need a purpose.  
> When you talk to me.  
> Give me the impression that I won't scratch your surface."
> 
> Kayou. - Give Me a Purpose

The night is still young; inky darkness delicately drapes itself over the entire town as the sun faded over the far horizon. It's an eerie darkness that hushes and silences all the town’s inhabitants for a few short hours until one by one the town would slowly awake and begin to rise with the sun and go on to their new day. As everyone lays fast asleep in their scraped together homes, Roadhog lays wide awake and all too aware of his surroundings. He’s tired, exhausted even. Alas, it was his thoughts that kept his slumber at bay.

Roadhog allows his mind to drift aimlessly through so many scenarios he’s witnessed and experienced over the last few months. All those months standing beside, lumbering after, and chasing his flaming haired boss across the scorching desert had miraculously passed within a blink of an eye. Accepting Junkrat’s _gracious_ and _absurd_ offer of splitting his mysterious treasure and promises of future riches seems so distant now, so _far_. Before Roadhog even knew it they had become the most sought after tag team in the Outback.

Roadhog honestly thought he wouldn’t have stuck around this long. He  _ had  _ made a plan and everything. Accept the offer, play the silent bodyguard for as long as he needed, and then leave Junkrat high and dry when an opportunity arose, but to his own surprise one never came. Junkrat had metaphorically glued himself to his plushy side and refused to leave no matter the consequence. Be it a flying meaty fist that met those sunken in cheeks or to the coldest of silent treatments. It even got to the point Roadhog kind of found it…  _ cute  _ how Junkrat followed him like some sort of lost ugly duckling. The cuteness never lasted for long though, as soon as Junkrat went on to his endless banter and rants he was back to being his old annoying and bratty self. 

Where those weeks were rather gruesome and tiring Roadhog had simultaneously held himself back from strangling the annoying rambunctious twerp with his own bare hands and then switching gears to where he was gutting wreckless bounty hunters who seek out Junkrat’s elusive treasure. It had been a mind-numbing struggle, but he endured and kept to his word, his  _ promise _ . Roadhog had always hated making promises, but what else could he have done? There was a desperate man who bribed and  _ pleaded  _ for his assistance. He was getting up in the ages where his bones ached and his wrecked lungs held him hostage. What could a little harmless promise do? Change his life for the better? Roadhog could almost laugh at the thought.

Even though Roadhog was quick to jot down Junkrat as an impulsive and selfish prick upon their first meeting at the bar, Junkrat’s actions over the past few months have proved him wrong time and time again. The more time he spent with the self-proclaimed arsonist the more he began to see past the crazed, soot, and grease-covered front Junkrat built up over his past unforgiving years. 

Roadhog had seen Junkrat as a childish and careless dreamer like any other younger junker he had crossed paths with over the past few years. Each with their own ambitious dreams and etched out plans for their future, but Junkrat had proved his first impression wrong. Firstly, the man was brilliant,  _ scary _ brilliant. Not book smart intelligent like scholars or suits from what he could tell. He doubted the scrawny and frail man could even properly read, but where Junkrat lacked a simple education he made up for it by being a cunning and sly street smart bastard. That and his terrifying ability to build a bomb out of just about anything he could get his grubby, soot-covered hands on. Secondly, no matter how selfish Junkrat acts, he was generous in his own way. Less than a day of their newfound partnership Junkrat had offered Roadhog a place to stay. Junkrat even gave up his bed and took the ragged-looking couch just so Roadhog had a comfortable place to sleep during his stay. Even whenever they ate Junkrat always made sure Roadhog  _ always  _ had the bigger portion of the sparse food hidden in every nook and cranny of his home.

Roadhog’s massive hands lay folded across his own massive gut as he took long and languid deep breaths as he lets these thoughts bounce aimlessly around in his skull. Fresh medicated oxygen from the concentrator hooked to the frame of his bed continuously feeding his starving lungs. Eyes closed, he listens to the calming night; crickets chirp, cicadas sing, and roaming pixies chitter to each other in the night. Roadhog heard nothing abnormal that seemed to indicate any possible threats, it was just like any other ordinary night. 

All was normal Roadhog had finally concluded. Well, except for the small shift in of the bed and the springs squeaking quietly as a new weight eases itself on the foot of the bed. Roadhog doesn’t move as he felt something, a finger is his best guess, poke his belly button. He doesn’t even react when an abnormally warm hand gently presses against his taut belly in a testing manner and gives his stomach a few gentle shakes before stilling. The intruder, who clearly didn’t know what personal space was, took Roadhog’s unresponsive state as a sign to continue. A cooler and slightly heavier hand ghosts along Roadhog’s skin before coming to a rest on his faded pink pig part of his tattoo. 

Without stirring to give away that he was well aware of the intruder in his bed, Roadhog slowly opens his eyes and is greeted with the unsurprising sight of all too familiar pair of tinted bright eyes staring right back at him. Through his darkened lenses and blurry sleep deprived vision Roadhog easily recognizes who the personal space invader was. None other than his obnoxious and wild, smouldering haired boss, Junkrat. 

Roadhog wasn’t even going to bother in interrupting Junkrat’s curious and harmless escapade until both of the arsonist’s hands leave his stomach, leans over, and begins to reach out towards him. No, towards his  _ mask _ . “Don’t.” Roadhog’s deep growling voice sternly commanded.

Those unwanted, sooty, and twitchy outstretched advancing grimy hands instantly flinch and were about to jerk away, but Roadhog was faster. He grabs Junkrat by his wrists and wrenches them away from the place they had been hovering only mere centimeters away from something Roadhog has told him, again and again, to never  _ touch _ . Roadhog quickly learned no matter how many times he’d repeat this to his younger employer, Junkrat would forget. He  _ always  _ forgot.

This time the scrawny prick was smart enough to do it in the middle of the night unlike all the times before, but he forgot a step. The twitchy idiot had forgotten to check to see if Roadhog was properly asleep, probably assumed seeing as the mask hid his face. In response to Roadhog low growling voice, a high reedy whine fills the room.

“Fuck! Come on mate! I jus’ wanted a peek! Tha’s all!” Junkrat blabbers out as he fruitlessly attempts to pull himself out of Roadhog’s tight grip. It doesn’t work, obviously. Roadhog, with both Junkrat's wrists trapped in one massive hand, doesn’t wait to hear Junkrat’s rambling excuse. He effortlessly and somewhat roughly tugs Junkrat off his stomach and slings his boss off to the side. Junkrat lands with a dull thud in the chipped wooden floor and more of his whining follows. “ROADIEEE!”

“The name is Roadhog,  _ Rat _ ,” Roadhog states in his low gravelly voice. Roadhog knows he has explained to Junkrat that his worn leather pig mask was off-limits to all touch, requests to its removal, and as well as his invasive curious questions about it. His mask stays on, no matter  _ what _ . Well, except for two reasons. One to eat and the other… he could only hope Junkrat would never discover his second reason.

Junkrat shrieks like a dying animal at the use of his beloved nickname in such a dark tone, he claws at the splintering wooden floor between his legs with blunt nails and scraping metal fingers in his growing tantrum. “Why do'ya gotta be a fuckin’ prick ova such a lil thing?! I jus’ wanna see ya f-“

A small stained pillow smacks Junkrat square in the face successfully cutting him off from finishing his sentence. Another scratchy screech of frustration billows from the flailing arsonist, he rips the pillow off of his face and holds it in a vice grip with his good hand. Roadhog covers his laughter with a few fake wheezy coughs through his filters.

“And ya arse isn’t going to.” Roadhog simply states as he rolls from his back and onto his side, his broad bareback now facing Junkrat. He was tired, sleeping was the only thing on his mind seeing as at dawn they’ll be packing their belongings back onto his bike and heading back into town for food along with supplies. He had overheard some of those fancy world traveling merchants had found their way into Junkertown and Roadhog didn’t want to pass up the chance of promises of fresh imported fish and fruits. 

“AN’ WHY THE FUCK NOT?!” Junkrat furiously demands, his voice hitting dangerously high octaves as he pounds his metal fist beside him with a dull echoing thud against the rotting wooden floorboards. Roadhog uses his free hand to cover his exposed ear, only slightly cutting Junkrat’s ear-bleeding screeching down a notch or two. Roadhog could practically feel the arsonist’s unnatural orange eyes burning holes into his bareback, he couldn’t honestly bring himself to care about it though. 

“Reasons.” It was a simple enough answer for a complicated question. “Why do’ya even want to know?”

“I wanna kno’ ‘cause… ‘cause of… Uh…”

“You don’t even know.”

“Do too!”

“You’re so full of it.”

No retort followed, only a frustrated hissing growl signaling the younger junker’s defeat probably sensing Roadhog had the upper hand of their conversation at that point. There was no reason for this sorry excuse of a twink to see his face. They were work partners. That’s all they were. What they’ll always be. Although Roadhog’s comment was seemingly successfully in lapsing Junkrat into stunned silence, wood still creaked and groaned with age letting him know Rat hasn’t left the spot on the floor. 

As much as Roadhog found silence to be rather tranquil, ever since he picked up Junkrat and lived with him long stretches of silence had become rather unnerving for him. Especially Junkrat’s silent moments, which was odd seeing how he was never one to let something like this go so easily or shut up so quickly. Maybe he finally decided to grow up and act like a mature fucking adult for once, Roadhog blissfully thought. Roadhog kills that wishful thinking. That wasn’t like Junkrat at all, sadly. Roadhog sighs, sinking further into the well worn king-sized bed. 

By now Roadhog thinks Junkrat might’ve exhausted himself to sleep. It wouldn’t be the first time. As he lays there a sliver of worry begins to build in his chest. The nagging temptation to roll back around to check and see if the idiot was alright as the heavy silence continues. All his worries and growing empathy instantly washes away as he feels a soft object pelt him right between the shoulder blades. Roadhog doesn’t say anything as he reaches over his shoulder, grabs the pillow Junkrat had thrown, brushes it off, and tucks it back under his head. 

Another pathetic sounding whine from the lack of reaction finally breaks the silence and Roadhog is thankful. Junkrat shifts around on the floor and quietly mummers, “When… when do me arse get to see ya face ya got hidin’ unda tha’ mask of yers?” 

“When it’s the last thing you see before you’re arse croaks.”

Junkrat dryly laughs, “Ah… ha, guess tha’s a  _ neva  _ then, since I got ya porky arse by me side now an’ protectin’ me, huh?”

“Mhm.”

The silence is back and so is the weight on the bed, but this time behind him. “Well, If I can’t eva take a gander at ya face… Can ya show me ya power?”

Roadhog visually tenses at the question. He clenches his fists by his side before relaxing them, “ _ No _ .”

“Come on, it won’t hurt nothin’!”

Roadhog could practically hear the pout forming on Junkrat’s face just by his voice alone. He’s spent too much time with this idiot. “Seriously starting to think your arse purposely forgets about the Queen's  _ one  _ rule about our powers, Rat.”

“Bah, screw the Queen! She an’ suck me left toe for all I care!”

“You’ll care when your arse is thrown out an’ banished from the only place ya scrawny arse calls home because of it.”

“She ain’t gonna kno’ unless one of our dumbarses snitch an’ I doubt either of us would do  _ tha’ _ .”

“She’s got eyes all over the fucking place.”

“I’ve been usin’ me power eva since I could control ‘em as an ankle biter, Hog! If she knew ‘bout it me arse woulda been thrown out fuckin’  _ years  _ ago.”

He had a point, Roadhog hums thoughtfully for a moment, “The answer is still no.”

“Hmph!” Junkrat folds his arms on the bed and huffs, “We’re fucking official  _ partners  _ now Hog! Can’t be roite partners in crime if we don’t kno’s nothin’ ‘bout each otha, doncha kno?”

“I guess…”

“Gimme  _ somethin’ _ to work with then, mate…  _ please _ ?” 

Roadhog presses the snout of his mask into the mattress and exasperatedly groans. Junkrat  _ had  _ to go and stoop to pleading, didn’t he? They’ve only been partners for a single month and yet Junkrat already knew a weak spot in his tough facade. Roadhog carefully and unwilling forces himself to sit up and impassively turns to stare down at Junkrat who had his pointy chin resting on his folded arms, looking up at him with bright pleading puppy dog eyes. 

Roadhog takes in a long slow breath and rolls his head to the side as he thinks of something to give Junkrat. The first thing that comes to mind is... No, that’s too personal. How about… No, Junkrat would find that too boring. Maybe his name? He didn’t see any harm in it seeing as Junkrat’s memories were all over the place. He’ll most likely forget it in about a day or two anyway, Roadhog thought to himself. 

After a beat of silence, Roadhog clears his throat. “Mako,” he flatly says.

Junkrat’s face scrunches up in a confused manner, “Make who wot?”

“ _ May-ko _ , it’s… my name.”

Junkrat simply stares at him blankly, his eyes glossing over. “Thought ya name was Roadh- Oh.  _ Oh _ .” Junkrat furrows his bushy eyebrows and the tip of his tongue sticks out from his bottom lip, his deep thinking face Roadhog had come to learn about. “Is… is tha’ loike... ya  _ name  _ name?” 

Roadhog grunts as a confirmation and slowly eases himself back onto the creaky bed. Now laying face to face with his boss, he snorts a chuckle as the glossy and blank stare disappears with a few rapid blinks. “Yeah. Mako was my name before the ‘plosion.”

Roadhog watches as Junkrat’s puckered pout morphs into a brilliant and warm smile. “ _ May _ -ko,” Junkrat says with the same thrilling excitement of a toddler learning it’s first cuss word, “ _ Maaaay-kooo _ . Oi, Mako?”

“Hm?”

“Heh, I loike it.”

“Like wha’?”

“Ya name. Fits well on a bloke loike yaself. Big… Strong… Bet me left arm yer  _ handsome  _ unda tha’ bloody mask too.” Junkrat got a few suggestive brow wiggles in before one of Roadhog’s massive hands engulfs the arsonist’s face and flirtatious expression. Roadhog doesn’t know Junkrat was playing at, but he  _ really  _ didn’t like how just that one word had his heart beating a little faster. Roadhog had thought he stomped that blasted organ out of existence along with the side effects a long time ago and he prefers to keep it that way.

Muffled giggles that come from behind his hand snap Roadhog back to his current predicament. Before he could remove his hand and let Junkrat breath, something wet and slimy swipes across the middle of his palm. 

Sneering behind his mask Roadhog wipes the spit on the nearest thing, Junkrat’s sparse soot caked ashen blonde hair. To his surprise, Junkrat’s hair was fairly soft to touch. When he removes his hand he mumbles a hushed, “Disgustin.”

Junkrat had accepted his fate of his own actions. Tittering softly he ever so slightly leans into Roadhog’s hand and closes his eyes. “Tha’s me. The no good an’ disgustin’ walkin; dumpster foire. So… if we sharin’ names, me name’s Jamison. With an  _ I _ , not an  _ E _ .”

“Jamison?” Roadhog snorts as he removes his hand from Junkrat’s spare locks happy to be rid of the spit, “Sounds too professional for someone like your dumbarse, like a name for fuckin’ suit.”

“Ya tellin’ me!” Junkrat scoffs aloud before burying his face into his arms, “It a curse I tell ya! So, I jus’ usually go by Jamie.” 

“Jamie?” Roadhog asked slowly as testing  Junkrat’s name on his own tongue. 

Those bright, vibrant orange eyes flicker back to life as they peek out of gangly arms and peer up at him eagerly, “Aye?”

Unknown to Junkrat, Roadhog was quietly admiring how much his orange glowing eyes looked like the flames of a warm campfire on a cold night, he averts his eyes and rolls back onto his back. “Go the fuck to sleep,” he mutters.

Jamie huffs a small laugh with his face softening, “Yeh, yeh. I goin.” Before getting up Junkrat gives Roadhog’s hand he had licked a gentle pat, “G’noight Mako.” And with that Roadhog watches Junkrat… watches  _ Jamie  _ hobble his way back to his makeshift bed he had made on his couch. Roadhog watches from across the dimly lit room as Jamie fist pumps into the air then flops down into the nest of ratty blankets and pillow with a large smile on his face.

Mako smiles at the sight, closes his eyes, and rasps out a soft, “G’night Jamie.” 


End file.
